


All Wrapped Up

by coffeeandcas



Series: Christmas Gifts (Destiel and Hannigram Ficlets) [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Come Swallowing, Crossdressing, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub Will Graham, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcas/pseuds/coffeeandcas
Summary: Hannibal and Will spend Christmas Day together, and Will atones for his rude behaviour the night before - wearing nothing but the gifts Hannibal bestowed upon him.





	All Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a chapter from one of my Supernatural works and remastered for the lovely Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter ♥

The townhouse is quiet and still, and Hannibal is reading by the light of one of the little table lamps. He's had a long day. A long week, in fact, and now it's Friday night and he has a report to finish for Monday morning. He could leave it to do over the weekend, but he and Will have plans and he doesn't want his work to eat into their time together. He's got a glass of wine on the table beside him, the dirty plates from dinner have been meticulously washed up and put away neatly, and Mozart is streaming from the vintage record player beside the window. Outside, life carries on in the city and Hannibal can hear the pleasant buzz and hum of it all as he frowns and makes a note in a margin. This patient is a particularly complex one and is taking up a lot of his time. It’s rather rude, really. 

The window is cracked open, letting in a gentle breeze, and Hannibal sips his wine slowly, relishing it, his thoughts idling away from his work.

He thinks of Will. Of beautiful Will, intelligent, handsome, troubled Will whom he adores completely and how revealing the last few months have been. He considers how different his life would be now if they weren't together in this way. He would still be alone, the lone wolf he's grown up as and grown used to being, still having the carefully constructed social life he chose for himself, playing amongst Baltimore’s society folk, and still would still be hunting pretty boys in the seedier parts of town, playing with them long into the night then killing them when he grew bored. He would be unfulfilled and unhappy. Unsatisfied. 

He wonders what Will’s life would be like and can picture it with diamond clarity. Alone in Wolf Trap, surrounded by dense woodlands and open fields, quieting his mind with fishing and his dogs. Catfish and noodles for dinner, boxed mac ‘n cheese in the cupboards. Threadbare furniture, immaculately restored fishing boat in the garage. A barn full of secrets.

He sets down his glass and checks his watch. Will always works late on Fridays, frequently stumbling in at past ten at night, bleary-eyed and ravenous, having forgotten to feed himself amid lectures and writing up his notes and planning for the week ahead. Eyes only for Hannibal and for the contents of his fridge, lovingly prepared, and the glass of wine that would always be extended to him to help him relax. Sweet kisses, firm fingers massaging tension from the back of his neck. Dark lashes fluttering on pale cheeks like butterfly wings. Tenderness. Relaxation.  

But not tonight.

Hannibal walks down the long, immaculate hallway to the staircase and ascends slowly. He approaches the master bedroom and pauses outside the half-open door, listening. Then he pushes it all the way open to admire the sight before him.

There, on the bed and gorgeously nude, tightly bound and covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, is Will. Beautiful, sharp-tongued Will. Waiting for him and only him. 

His boy is on his knees, legs spread wide, and his chest and shoulders are pressed into the sheets. His arms are stretched out in front of him and bound tightly together then to the headboard and decorated with an oversized red bow. He's blindfolded, and black leather cuffs grip his ankles with a steel spreader bar between them, forcing them apart. He's beautiful, aroused and clearly on edge of climax, his cock thick and swollen between his legs and his balls tight to his body. He's undulating his hips in a needy rhythm, clearly desperate for some form of contact, and Hannibal can hear his pants and gasps from across the room. His hair is sweat-damp and clings to the skin at the back of his neck and at his temples. Will twitches at the sound of the door, turning his head from one side to the other to rest his cheek on the sheets, and Hannibal stands there watching him for a moment, enraptured at the sight.

Will’s legs are encased in sheer black stockings, stopping mid-thigh, and he’s wearing a pair of black lace French panties that Hannibal had purchased for him and given him as a Christmas gift this morning when they sat on the end of the bed, doused in the glow of the fire, and exchanged beautifully wrapped parcels. Between Will’s pale, firm ass cheeks, beneath the lace, he can just see the hilt of a toy fitting snugly into his hole. It's a thick toy, a black silicone vibrator, curved in just the right places and flared out towards the base to stretch Will wide and hold him open. And it's turned on to one of its middle settings. Hannibal knows this because he put it there an hour ago, when he bound Will and covered his eyes, and left him alone as a punishment for snapping at him at dinner the previous day. A penalty for his rudeness.

The lingerie hadn’t been part of Hannibal’s plan for tonight. But Will had come to him in his study dressed in the black silk kimono Hannibal had given him as a birthday treat, had pulled Hannibal’s chair from the desk and sat down in his lap, allowing the older man to open the tie of the kimono, nudge it off his shoulders, and find him in stockings and panties, coy and contrite, ready to take whatever Hannibal offers. 

“Don’t presume that this will lessen your punishment,” Hannibal had kissed his shoulder, nuzzled at his neck and breathed him in. “But you look exquisite. Perfect boy.”

Now, he’s eternally glad Will did think to dress up for him. He’d even shaved his legs so the stockings lie smooth against his skin. The lace of the panties stretches obscenely over his balls and cock, already damp with fluid. Will rocks his hips, desperate. Hannibal smiles. 

“Are you learning your lesson, boy?” He queries, voice low and purposefully blasé. Will’s entire body quakes and he nods frantically. His lips part as though he's about to speak before remembering that he isn't allowed. Hannibal smiles. Such a good boy.

“Excellent. I'm have one final report to complete. I shall be finished in another…twenty minutes.” 

He smiles as Will gives a choked little moan at the thought of being left again. He had planned this punishment thoroughly beforehand and had provided Will with a short summary of what he had in mind, leaving out a few details. They've never done this for so long before: leaving Will by himself and restrained, but Hannibal has given him a small electronic buzzer to keep in his hand, and should it get too much all he has to do is press it and Hannibal will hear it in any room of the house. He approaches his boy and runs delicate fingers up his sweat-slick spine to his hair. Will looks wrecked, his pale cheeks burning and the blindfold damp with sweat and tears.

“Colour, darling boy?”

“Green, sir.” Again, Will looks like he wants to say something else but stops, and Hannibal pats him encouragingly on the shoulder.

“You're doing very well. You can hold out a little longer, I’m certain. Although I think this may be somewhat easy for you. Allow me to make an adjustment.”

He reaches down between his boy's parted thighs to grip the base of the vibrator through the lace, watching the delicate material stretch beneath his fingers. Will can't contain a moan at the sensation and arches his hips back, pushing the toy a little deeper and Hannibal holds it there for a moment, allowing his boy to grind on it and drinking in the wanton little sounds that spill from Will’s parted lips. Then he turns it up to the next setting and Will keens, arching his back, chest pushing down into the sheets and ass up in the air. He's writhing, pulling hard on his wrist restraints, his body arching beautifully and Hannibal steps away to look at him.

“So perfect for me, sweet boy. Be good for just a little longer and I'll let you enjoy the orgasm you so desperately crave.”

Will whines, canting his hips in a futile attempt to either escape the vibrator pulsing inside him or to chase it for more, and Hannibal turns to leave him, casting a glance back over his shoulder at his beautiful boy. Will really is a dream to behold when he's like this, on edge and gasping. Somehow, he manages to focus on his report again but only for ten minutes. He manages to write another eighty words, finishes his glass of wine, then heads back down the hall. To his credit, Will has kept his position beautifully. He's got his forehead to the bed now between his arms, the muscles of his shoulders tensing as he rocks gently back and forth using his cuffed wrists as leverage, and he's panting hard. The bow wrapped around his hands is the same one Hannibal had wrapped around Will’s gift this morning. 

“Still so eager for me, aren't you beautiful boy?” Hannibal muses, running a finger through a pool of sweat in the dip of Will's spine. “Holding out so well. Are you learning to hold your tongue?”

Will nods frantically, gripping the straps binding him to the headboard with white-knuckled hands.

“Good. Let's see how much more you can take before I allow you to come, hmm?”

Hannibal kneels down behind his boy and pulls the panties to one side, focusing in on Will’s balls and how tight they are to his body. His lover is close to orgasm and it won't take much to push him over the edge. Gently, Hannibal runs his fingertips up Will’s calf, over the tense muscle of his thigh and further, cups the tender sac and runs a thumb over each of Will's balls in gentle circles, feeling the coarse hair there beneath his fingertips. Will keens, trying to arch away from the overstimulation so Hannibal leans forward and chases his touch with his tongue. Will tastes and smells of sweat and precome, rich and musky, and this close Hannibal can both hear and feel the vibrator pulsing relentlessly inside Will, driving him wild with sensation.

“Hannibal, I can't…  I can’t last. I’m gonna come…”

“Don't you dare, Will. I forbid it.”

Feeling predatory, wanting to test Will even further and draw more beautiful sounds from his lips Hannibal leans in close and runs the tip of his tongue around Will's tight rim where it's stretched wide around the relentlessly throbbing toy. It must be driving Will wild; it's larger than the ones they normally play with, and he'd spent a good fifteen minutes between Will's legs opening him up enough to take it. Will had already been bound, was sighing quietly into his forearms when Hannibal had knelt behind him and eaten him out until he was a writhing, panting mess. Then he has started to finger him. He'd got to four fingers, had Will's rim wet with lube and spit, and had been massaging his prostate in gentle, deliberate circles that had his boy trembling before he'd inserted the toy. His preference is glass: it’s unyielding and will hold Will’s entrance wide, has no give or flexibility and Hannibal knows that the intrusion into Will’s body with a glass toy is something they save for a very special occasion. Tonight, Will had taken the silicone beautifully, inch by inch, and Hannibal had almost lost his control as he watched his perfect boy's hole stretch to accommodate the vibrator. He’d made sure it was in deep, resting at the perfect angle to give Will's prostate all the relentless stimulation he wanted, before he turned it on. Will's low cry of enjoyment still rang in his ears. 

“You don't have permission to orgasm until my command, Will. Or to speak, for that matter, although you seem to be testing that.”

“Hannibal, please!” His cry is wild and untamed and he pushes his hips back desperately into Hannibal’ face. Hannibal knows without looking that Will’s hair is soaked with sweat now, sticking to him at every angle, and that his spine is glistening, gleaming in the firelight. He's either forgotten the command not to talk, or has stopped caring, the desire coursing through his veins becoming too much. “ _ Please… _ ”

“Will.” Hannibal lands a hard slap to his boy's quivering thigh with no warning, watching as the skin turns immediately red in the shape of his handprint. It brings a burst of saliva to his mouth and he does it again, simply because he can. “Be silent.”

Will whimpers and presses his forehead into the sheets; he's achingly hard between his thighs, the tip of his cock soaking his panties with precome and the sheets are damp beneath him. The stockings are clinging to him, sticky with sweat behind his knees. He swallows hard, fever-hot and panting, and Hannibal leans in again, massaging his boy's balls and lapping gently at his stretched hole until he can feel Will's body tensing up. His gasps rise in pitch and volume, becoming frantic, seconds from climaxing against his will. But that would be a cruelty Hannibal isn’t willing to infict on him tonight, not on Christmas Day. He pulls back, removes his hands from Will’s ass cheeks, thumbing over his rim and feeling the toy pulse hard, and allows the panties to slide back into place. Smiling, he drinks in the long, drawn-out wail that spills from his lover. He's still fully-dressed himself in the suit he wore for dinner, complete with waistcoat and pocket square, and his cock a hard, aching line in his pants. He almost wishes Will could see it, take in the evidence of his arousal, but it isn't about him right now. It's all about Will.

“Hannibal, oh god, please…”

With a hand resting on the small of Will's back to keep him in place, Hannibal lands another four slaps to the shaking thighs, enjoying the feel of the sheer stockings beneath his palm; one for every word uttered.

“Fuck… oh, fuck…”

Three more. He wonders if Will will catch on before orgasm overwhelms him. His skin is red now beneath the panties where the fabric stretches, twists, caught on the hilt of the toy and pulling tight.

“Hannibal, I  _ can’t… _ can't…”

Four more, two on each thigh right below his ass, and Hannibal watches as Will's skin reddens beneath his palm. He knows Will is almost at his limit and as soon as he quiets he fully intends to reward him.

“I… I…” 

Will falls silent, gasping into the sweaty skin of his forearm - Hannibal notices a red patch just below where the ribbon of the bow has twisted around his wrist, where he's been biting down on his own flesh to try and stop his moans - and when Hannibal delivers two more slaps to Will's shaking thighs his boy remains quiet. Hopeful. Trembling violently all over. At his limit.

He reaches between Will's legs, pulls the panties aside once more, and holds the vibrator still as Will rocks back onto it, and wraps a hand around his thick, aching shaft. It takes two strokes and a twist of his fingers at the head to send Will over the edge and he positively screams as he comes, pushing his body back towards Hannibal, onto the toy, as pulse after pulse of come spills from him and soaks the sheet below him. Hannibal just watches, enraptured, entranced by the contractions of Will’s muscles, the rocking of his body. The vibrator is so deep inside him, on its highest setting, and the stimulation must be incredible. He twists it experimentally and Will groans, more come dripping from him as his prostate is endlessly massaged, and strangled cry catches in his throat. Hannibal enjoys the sight so he does it again, turning the toy the other way, thrusting lightly, forcing Will to ejaculate once more, two thick pulses this time and his voice cracks as he cries out.

“Hannibal…  _ Hannibal _ … stop… stop, please…”

He's sobbing now, face buried in the sheets, and Hannibal waits until his desperate rocking motions have subsided into quiet tremors before turning the toy down then off, sliding it out gently and passing a thumb over Will's stretched, gaping rim. It barely tenses at his touch, yet Will shudders. The panties fall back into place and he leans in to lap at them, tasting sweat and Will’s own intimate flavour. Hannibal then reaches down and unlocks the spreader bar from his ankles, touching his thighs and lower back as much as he can to reassure his boy that he's there. He runs a hand up the inside of Will’s stocking-clad thigh, hushing him gently as Will shivers and gasps, sobbing lightly.

“Shh, my darling boy. You did so well, Will, you were so beautiful. Lie down now, on your side.” Will complies, trembling violently, sniffling and trying to calm himself as Hannibal moves up to unlock his wrist cuffs and untie the bow and then, lastly, he removes the soaking blindfold and waits for Will to blink up at him. His eyes are dark and unfocused, tears clinging to long lashes, and Hannibal doesn't hesitate to wrap him tightly in his arms and kiss him deeply, uncaring of the sweat and semen that will now be smeared onto his suit. “I love you, Will. Come back to me. Take your time.”

It's a good few minutes before Will recovers enough to slide an arm around Hannibal and wriggle in close; his chest is still heaving and the muscles of his thighs are trembling. He’s soaked with sweat, and Hannibal kisses every inch of him he can reach, taking care to check Will's wrists for any marks or abrasions. They're red from his constant pulling at the cuffs, but aside from that he's unscathed. He fingers the bow, untied now but clasped tightly in one damp fist and listens as Will huffs out a shaky little laugh.

“God, Hannibal,” Will's head tips back onto the pillow and his eyes fall closed, dark hair spilling onto silken fabric. “That was unreal.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Hannibal kisses his forehead and allows Will to press close to his chest, to lie with his ear over Hannibal’s heart and listen for a few long moments.

“Yeah. That was…” Will blinks sleepily, tremors slowly subsiding. “Incredible.” He slides a hand down behind him and pulls a strange, glazed-eyed face as his fingers find their mark. “God, I’m so wet. I’ll be feeling that for days. It was amazing.”

“It was.” Hannibal kisses him. “You were.”

“Only thanks to you.” Blue eyes blink up at him, clear now, open and honest and full of adoration. “I’d be nothing without you.”

Will reclines against the pillows, stretching, and they both gaze down the length of his body at his stockings and panties, at the beautiful lingerie that adorns his body, and Hannibal feels a fresh pulse of arousal. Come smears Will’s stomach from where he collapsed onto the sheets, sticky and creamy, and Will drags a finger through it then raises it to his lips. Before he has the chance to taste himself, Hannibal grabs his wrist and pulls his hand closer to his own mouth, locking eyes with Will as he licks the semen from Will’s skin, the salty taste of him exploding across his tongue. Will’s eyes darken in spite of his exhaustion and he groans quietly.

“God, Hannibal. If you knew how you looked when you did that.”

“Lie down.” Hannibal kneels up, nudging Will down the bed until he’s on his back, one knee up and Hannibal’s hand stroking his inner thigh. With his free hand, Hannibal unbuttons his trousers and frees himself, his erection thick and throbbing, and he leans over Will as he begins to stroke himself. His fingers dig into Will’s thigh and, beneath him, Will arches to display his body better, to allow Hannibal’s gaze to roam across his pale skin and the lingerie he wears so decadently, as Hannibal’s hand moves faster on himself and he shifts up until he’s kneeling over Will’s face.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and Will obeys just as Hannibal starts to come, gritting his teeth and groaning as he spurts thick stripes of come across Will’s lips, and teeth, filling his mouth as the boy beneath him groans in rapture. He watches as Will licks his lips with his mouth full then swallows, blinking lazily up at Hannibal and grinning, reaching for him.

“Filthy boy,” Hannibal tells him fondly, falling back to rest on his heels, running a hand through Will’s hair then dropping to rub a thumb across his bottom lip, smearing a stray streak of come. 

“You love it.” Will catches Hannibal’s thumb between his teeth, sucking gently until it’s clean, then watches as Hannibal climbs off the bed and undresses, folding his clothes neatly before lying down beside Will and pulling him into a warm embrace.

“I do. You are the most sublime Christmas gift I have ever received.”

Will smiles into a deep kiss, already drowsy and dozing in his lover’s arms. Hannibal holds him until he falls asleep, dirty and sticky and still clad in panties that will be sticking to his skin, but there will be time for a hot bath later. He will wash Will’s hair for him, massage his shoulders, and give him a reward for his good behaviour tonight when he’s recovered enough to enjoy it. 

He watches the snow gather on the window ledge outside and quietly whispers endearments into Will’s hair, lovely things he wouldn’t say were his boy conscious. But while Will sleeps, Hannibal can tell him just how much he adores him and how special he is, and how Christmas just wouldn’t be the same without him. 

A small, secret part of him hopes Will is awake to hear it.


End file.
